Precipice
by Wendy Brune
Summary: Remus is standing on the precipice, and it's only going to take one more nudge before he falls in. Is she worth it? Remus/Lily, one-sided ish . BIRTHDAY!FIC FOR WITCHWITHWINGS24! LY!


**A/N:** Birthday!fic for the wonderful Jade (witchwithwings24). Happy birthday!

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**Precipice**

He's on the precipice of something big, something nearly unavoidable, and it's only going to take one more nudge before he falls in completely.

Remus Lupin is really regretting agreeing to this study session because while Lily Evan's going on about the Goblin Accord of 1308 – or whatever it is they're suppose to be studying for History of Magic – all he can think about are her lovely, plump lips and her shiny, full hair and her curvy, smooth figure and her-

"Remus!" Lily says a bit irritably, rousing him from his laments on her perfect body. "What's with you today? You're not focusing at all!"

(_Oh, Merlin, she's even beautiful when she's angry._)

"M'sorry," he mutters, shaking his head in an attempt to dispel his unsavory thoughts. "I had a late night last night, I guess."

Lily's sharp features turn soft as she gives him a sweet smile, her indescribable green eyes filling with understanding. "Problems in the boys' dormitory?"

He shrugs, unsure of how much she knows. Secretly, he's glad that they're in their seventh and final year at Hogwarts, as he's unsure if their friendships could last much longer if they were forced to live together another year. Prongs is mad at Padfoot over something so silly, he's not sure that anyone even remembers anymore; the tension in the dormitory is so thick at night, it's nearly tangible. Wormtail is increasingly busy these days meeting up with God knows who, so that leaves him, Moony, to pick up the pieces the other two leave in their wake.

"If you're talking about our Head Boy's fight with Black, don't worry," she responds to his silence, shuffling her papers as if to signal she's ready to start studying again. "Jame – I mean, _Potter_, will come around eventually." She quickly looks down after her slip of tongue, but not before he notes the blush on her cheeks and the uncontrollable smile that's stretching across her face.

It's that glorious smile that breaks his heart into a million pieces; it reminds him just why the intelligent, kind redhead in front of him can never be his. Sure, they're not together yet, but James, Prongs, Potter –_whatever_ he wants to call him – has already staked his claim. (And if her smile and shared knowledge mean anything, it won't be too much time until the two are officially an item.) It'd be against the Marauders and everything they've ever stood for to make a move, wouldn't it? It wouldn't just be Prongs who'd hate him; Wormtail and Padfoot would surely follow suit.

But Merlin, how frustrated he feels! He and Lily would make the perfect pair – they're responsible , wholesome, and kind. Prongs may be one of his closest friends, but how has Lily grown blind to all of his arrogance? Why can't she see that nearly everything he does benefits himself? Sure, he left Severus Snape alone after that incident in sixth year, but wasn't it just to win Lily over? Does she really think he stopped because he felt bad?

(_If only he'd stood up for Snape that day, too, maybe Lily'd be blushing and giggling at his name._)

"I hope they both grow up and get over it," he responds, trying to forget the hateful thoughts brewing in his head.

She giggles a little at this and reaches over, her long red hair falling in her face as she pats the top of his hand, trying to comfort him.

Prongs has everything, doesn't he – Head Boy, the money, Quidditch Captain, the bed by the window – _everything_. But not Lily. Not her. Remus has been _more_ than glad to step aside for James Potter's rising star, but for once in his life, he's not sure if he can step aside anymore.

Maybe it's for lack of sleep, or maybe it's because it's their seventh and final year, but Remus does something unthinkable; he snatches Lily's hand in his, and the sparks between them are so strong that when she gasps and looks up at him with those indescribable green eyes, he _knows_ she's felt them too.

They sit there like that, not breaking eye contact, both afraid to pull away or say anything. She's clutching his hand so hard, she sitting right there in front of him, she's so tangible, she's almost his–

They're on the precipice of something big, something nearly unavoidable, and it's only going to take one more nudge before they fall in completely.


End file.
